The Sacred Sensual Dance Of India
I ran my hands over her gleaming chest, gently up her neck before turning her head so I could kiss her. My tongue found hers instantly as she gyrated against me. I was inexperienced and this was such a huge turn on. I felt her hand run up my leg and she ever so slowly ran her fingers over my bulge. I couldn’t believe I was stood in the middle of 2500 people with my hand inside a bra of someone I had never seen more than 20 minutes ago. It was such a fucking turn on. I continued to pinch her nipples alternately as I kissed her deeply, her hands running all over me. I took a look around, surprised that no one was watching us. I decided to be a bit more daring as I ran my hand down her sides and held my hands in between her legs and held her firmly towards me. I heard hear moan into my mouth as we kissed and as she ground her pussy against my hand. I unzipped her trousers and slide my hand inside to feel delightfully smooth silk knickers. My hand travelled further down and traced my. She should have taken him to a restaurant, away from temptation. He registered the combativeness, and some of what lay behind it. Knew her panties were getting damp. Knew it would be a battle, but one worth winning. Damn, who did she think he was, anyway? He was offering her a job, and a damn good one. Fuck the job, anyway. The bottle emptied, and a second one followed it. He started telling travellers’ tales and stopped himself. Started to ask why she wasn't married and stopped himself. Remembered to ask about her work. At least he didn’t ask why I’m not married, she thought. My panties are getting damp. “So what do you think?” “About the book, you mean?” “Yes, about the book. Do you want to take it on?” What did she think he was asking her about? The button between her breasts that she’d been playing with all through dinner? That was unfair of course – but every so often as they talked about his travels and her writing career, her hand had strayed to that button. There was.
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